Party With The Big Boys
©Manda Chasez, 2003

If you can believe it, it started when I first witnessed JC puking his guts out after a party. I mean, he's a great-looking guy, and he's over-flowing with talent, but contrary to popular belief, I know the real JC. The JC that can be caring, sensitive, and the JC that's hypocritical and fucking mean. Right, well back to the puking. Even sitting there so vulnerable and gross, he had my friendship, my heart, and there really wasn't anyway to prevent how he would shake the foundational ties with both.

* * *

Early March, 2001

His newly grown, long hair wasn't so cool anymore when it was caked with chunks and matted on his neck as he heaved over the cold, ceramic toilet.

"Fuck, Justin, come help me or something."

I rolled my eyes, tossing a white, rough hotel towel over my shoulder and yawned, entering the bathroom. I watched as his chin quivered, as he salivated, and as he cursed alcohol to hell. Sinking to my knees, I wiped down his mane with my towel and held back his thick locks. "I really don't understand why you ask me to do this for you. I don't like alcohol, the smell of it, it's consequences, and certainly the way it looks mixed with your dinner."

"Shut the fuck up," JC slurred, obviously still intoxicated, but his command still angered me. "With your consequences. You don't like alco..hol.." he swallowed tremendously before continuing, "..because you're not old enough to try it. You're not old enough to do anything."

I shifted my weight uncomfortably, still balancing myself on my knees and continued to rub JC's back as he winced with disgust. Another round of nausea later, I cleared my throat. "I am too old enough."

"Huh?" He finally stopped vomiting enough to lean against the tub, rinsing his mouth out with the faucet water and closed his eyes to rest. "You're old enough for what?"

"You said I wasn't old enough..." I started but then changed my mind. "Forget it."

One of JC's eye lids caught me offguard as he studied me, his pale, clammy face finally regaining color. "You'd never be able to party like us. Like me, Joey, and Chris. You'll never be able to stomach it."

I rolled my eyes, not having the desire to continue anymore conversation with JC for the rest of the night. Rising to my feet, I crossed the room over to the sink where I rinsed my thick fingers thoroughly with the soap. Wiping my damp skin against my jeaned-thighs, I opened my mouth once more to say something to JC, but clamped it shut again when I realized he had passed out on the tile. His long, wet hair covered half of his face, and his arm draped gently over his head. "I can too party like you guys. Just wait."

* * *

January 31, 2002

I wiped my bald, peach-fuzzed head with a towel, and just couldn't figure out where all this sweat was coming from. I peeled off the tight, sleeveless shirt that clung to my stinky, grody body and tossed it in a large bin with the rest of the guys' clothes. And worse of all, I couldn't realize where the fuck this hard-on came from. I flicked it with my fingers, trying to make sense of it's appearance. It made a loud thunk, as if it was laughing at me.

"Good show guys!" came the knocks and hollers from the hallway in the Los Angeles concert arena. Fearfully, I grabbed the towel and held it over my erection as JC and Lance barged in on my shirtless body in the dressing room.

"What the fuck!" I yelled, turning away immediately. "Don't you asses ever knock!?"

The two older men exchanged puzzled smirks. "What, are you afraid your pecks are gonna turn into tits or something?" Lance cracked.

"No," I stuttered, too angry and too embarassed to face them. Why won't it go down?! I leaned forward against the corner I was facing and wished my bandmates to go away and soon.

"Hurry up and get ready, Jay!" Lance's tone of voice changed from sarcastic to rushed. I heard them scuffling behind me as they grabbed their things and headed out the door. "You're gonna be late to your own damn party, birthday boy."

"Alright, just give me some privacy," I muttered, my heart-beat slowing, realizing they were leaving. "I'll meet you guys on the bus."

"Whatever," was the last comment I heard before the door slam, and then silence. Letting out a loud whoosh of relieved hot air, I let the towel slip from my hands and turned to hit the showers when I saw JC in front of me, leaning against the door wearing the biggest 'I'm-an-asshole' smirk and crossed arms. I froze, too humiliated to even cover the big problem in my pants. Then suddenly, I realized why I was hard.

"I guess some of us had a better show than others," was all he said, and thats all he had to say. I felt it twitch in my pants, and the pressure began to blur my vision. Before I could reply, he walked towards me, like a jungle cat going in for the kill, only he bent down at my waist, his face directly in my junk. I gasped, and the sweat began to bead at my eyebrows once again. I looked down fearfully, and pouted almost regrettably as JC picked up the towel at my feet and stood straight. In pure torture, he rubbed the towel against my abs, poking through the material with his index finger as he traced the muscles. I fought for my eyes to stay open and to keep from rolling back, and was caught offguard when JC's hand began to enter the waist of my pants. Gasping, I watched as he tucked the towel into the elastic, then pulled his hands away. "Well, shower and meet us on the party bus, man!" He grinned, winked, and was gone. So was my hard-on.

* * *

I can't believe this. I'm gay.

Wait.

Does checking out my best friend make me gay?

Of course not!

But, does wanting to make sweet, sweet love to my best friend from behind and reach around to jerk him off while he screeched my name make me gay?

Oh, yeah. I'm gay.

I peered into the hotel mirror, alone in my bedroom with my thoughts. "He's just so, fucking pretty." I whined out loud, dragging my boots across the carpet and collapsed on the bed. It was my twenty-first birthday, and I was supposed to get drunk and sleep with random hot chicks tonight, not piss and moan over these homosexual, and rather kinky thoughts. I sure didn't look gay. Or act gay. But these thoughts are just too gay for their own good.

"Not that there's anything wrong with being gay," I reasoned with myself aloud. "Oh, who am I kidding!?" I puffed my cheeks in anger, reached behind me to grab a pillow, and began to punch the hell out of it. In the midst of my agression, a faint knock on the door saved the pillow. I tossed it to the side, then stormed over to the door. Opening it, I saw Lance, checking his wrist watch and tapping his foot impatiently. He read the look of confusion I wore and took note of the beads of sweat forming on my upper lip. He winced at how red my face was and tsk-tsked at my choice of clothes...or lack there of. But then, his face squinched up in amusement, and I figured the next words that came out of his mouth would.

"Oh no," he waved his finger at me. "Don't even try your 'I have the flu' bullshit on me. You're getting laid tonight." Satisfied with his self, he grinned. "Now come on, wash your face, put on a different shirt, and lets go!"

"I don't have the flu," I blurted.

"Well, duh," he pushed past me, uninvited. "Come on, what are you hiding in here? Or should I say who?" He found the mirror on my wall and checked his teeth.

"Nothing," I continued to stare in space. What would Lance say if I told him what's been going through my mind for the past three hours? He's not homophobic, so I don't think he'd get weirded out. Or tell the other guys. But I'm not gay! What am I thinking? I mentally slapped myself and began to sweat again. Just Lance's presence was making me insecure.

"You're not hiding anything?" Lance asked again, not truely interested. "Not even under the bed?"

"No," my pupils darted from left to right.

"What about in the closet?"

"Closet?" I gulped. "Who's in the closet? I'm not in the closet! I mean, there's nothing in the closet. Nope, I've never even been in the closet, I mean in a closet. No, sir." After I rambled, I could've sworn Lance was pissing his self from the good laugh he was having. "Why are you laughing?"

"You're gay, aren't you?" he pointed at me, gasping for air.

"What!" I shouted, flabbergasted.

"Well, you're goin' on about closets!"

"I'm not gay, man," my heart almost stopped beating. For some strange reason, that last comment didn't sound so true when it left my mouth. "Come on, let's go."

"Yeah, whatever," Lance cleared his throat.

Grabbing my key, I felt his heavy stare on my body the whole time. It was too humiliating to bare. I stuffed the hotel key in my pocket and walked over to the door, leading the way out of my suite. But I walked carefully. I loosened my legs a bit and added a 'pimp limp' to my step. Sure, I looked retarded. Just as long as I didn't look gay.

Lance shook his head, mumbled something about "pathetic," and closed the door behind us.

* * *

Okay, so there I was. In the backseat of a limo with Lance...and JC. Chris and Joey were already at the castle my party was going to take place in. Getting the guests acquainted in their rooms, the kegs flowing, the DJ cutting, but for now, I was in the company of Lance...and JC.

"Hey, check this out ladies," Lance dug into the side horizontal-lit bar and yanked out a lean, dark bottle of wine with a gold label. His tongue hung out slightly above his lower lip in concentration and he rotated the wine in his hands. "Good year."

I tensed. The mental image of JC hissing sexually as I poured the chilled, red liquid down his bare, trembling chest while he lyed upon maroon, silk sheets chisled itself into my mind, and I almost gasped from the sudden, erotic jolt of energy. Nervously, I raised my glance to JC's eye level, and turned so red the color has yet to be named when I realized he was staring at the bottle in Lance's grasp about as hard as I was. His face was perplexed in concentration, and he wet his lips repeatedly.

Oh, God, this is too much to bare. Is it just me, or is it fucking hot in here?

"Hello-o-o?" Lance chanted, attempting to snap JC and I out of our gazes. "Is there somethin' about this wine that I ain't gettin'?"

I heard Lance, but my dick's voice was a knotch higher then him, and I could hear it as it demanded attention, rising slowly to the occasion along with my heart beat...

"Well, what are you waiting for?" JC stared at me as my knees trembled. Is he talking to me? His eyes were fixed on mine, and I swear he was reading my mind. It was like he was daring me to pounce on him and violate him ever so gently while Lance watched, and that was even more exciting than I could describe.

Well, that could've been what JC meant, but it wasn't.

"Open that shit, Lance. It's time to drown the birthday boy in his sorrows!" His stare broken, he reached across the tiny space in the limo that was becoming tinier by each passing second and twisted the cork off the bottle. "You ready for some big boy Kool-aid, Jay?"

Blinking out of control, I cleared my throat and struggled to fade the gayer-than-gay thoughts of JC and I out of my head. A second later, I succeeded for the time being. "Pour me some of that shit, C. I'm ready to party like the big boys." As if on cue, the limo rumbled to a complete stop, and we had arrived at my party. And according to the mischevious, yet unobvious to JC bulge in my pants, right on time.

But oh, how Lance noticed.

* * *

My party was taking place in a castle high in the hidden green forests of California wilderness. There were 140 guests that were invited, and those with special invitations made by the guys were going to be partying all night, and retiring in the rented rooms. It hit the media not too far back, you know, Justin Timberlake, the "baby" of 'NSYNC was finally turning twenty-one. I wasn't a baby anymore. I'm done with adolesence, and I was a man now. A really confused man that's into another man. So anyway, the party was already going to be ranked the best party in Hollywood of the year.

I was closest to the door in the limo, so I was the first out. My shoed-feet hit the gravel beneath me, and I winced from the bright lights that surrounded the gigantic double-door entrance. Moving to the side, I waited for JC and Lance to exit the car as well. First was Lance, and his pupils poked mine with question marks. He had the biggest, 'What-the-fuck?' face on, and I was relieved to feel Justin Jr. limp slowly against my thigh after seeing his face. Woo, it was mean.

"Yeah, baby!" JC emerged from the limo with the bottle of wine pushing against the side of his lips, sipping on it ever so slowly. A colored drop from the liquid that didn't make it into his mouth floated gently down his chin, and I followed it with my pleading eyes, in total awe. "The party is here. Let's get inside and find some fuckin' girls!" Without waiting for Lance and I to comply, he fastened his pace and disappeared into the house.

* * *

"Haaaaaaaappy birthday to you!" Joey, Chris, JC, Lance, and the rest of the party screeched my song to my redenning face and cheered as I prepared to blow out the twenty-one candles on my provacative cake. No doubt Joey's idea. It was a naked chick, bent over with her ass exposed to me. So, so charming.

"Yeah, get your face in that and blow!" he hooted, causing an abrupt string of laughter from all of those who could see my cake and weren't busy dancing in the next room.

No arguement, here. I closed my eyes and puffed my cheeks, pausing to make a quick wish before I extinguished the flames. I must have paused longer than I intended, for a sudden hush fell upon the crowd that surrounded me while I kept them in suspense. What exactly was I wishing for? I had money to wipe my ass with, the freedom of bachelorhood, the adoration of fans, the continuing love of family, the best friends...

"Hurry up, Stupid-Ass!" a scratchy, poor impression of a New York accent interrupted the silence.

My eyes fluttered open to the quirk and everyone laughed nervously. "Fuck you, Chris," I cracked, causing everyone to laugh harder as I exhaled and blew my candles out, all twenty-one in one try. Cheers rang all across the huge dining room and the music came on again, the crowds dispersed, and everyone went back to dancing. The thick clouds of smoke filled my vision, but they parted as quickly, and admist the thin strands of mist, I saw JC, sipping on a margarita, eyeing me thoughtfully. Before I could nod, he turned and disappeared.

* * *

I couldn't focus. I turned down all the chicks who threw their young, suculent bodies at me. It was no use, there was no hope for me.

"I just turned twenty-one and my dick's already limp for life," I complained to my childhood best friend Trace and Lance who was also seated across from me. "Help me."

"Well," Trace grinned. "I got just the thing." His dark brown orbs gleamed with excitement as he pulled out a small baggie from his back pocket. Lance stared in amusement and nodded while Trace continued. "It's for emergencies only, and this is an emergency." He waved the small bag and the contents in it in front of my eyes like a pendulum, and from it's scent I knew what it was. Marveled, I watched as he expertly pulled two small square papers and lyed them flat on the table, licking his index and thumb fingers and began to pour the weed from the bag onto the paper. After a few seconds, he shoved a joint in my mouth and appropriately enough, a lighter appeared in his palm and he attempted to light the contents in my mouth. "If this doesn't loosen you up, I don't know what will."

"Whatever works," I pursed my lips around the rolled plant and puffed it slowly as the smoke rose from the tip. "Mmm.."

"Oh yeah," Trace's eyes danced in amusement. The three eyebrow rings over his left eye dangled as he laughed at my reaction. After a moment, he handed Lance a joint and then we all sat together peacefully and quietly. "Okay, don't fucking hog it." Forcefully he pulled the joint from my lips and took a hit. "Feel any better?"

"Um, sure," I rolled my eyes. "I don't even feel it!" I rose to my feet and fell down just as quickly. "What the..."

He and Lance erupted into laughter, as did I, and that's how I spent the next hour...high.

* * *

"Okay, I'm loose," I blurted to Lance, then realized how funny that statement sounded coming from myself. After another fit of giggles, I cleared my throat. "I mean, I'm loosened up. I'm going downstairs."

"Go get 'em, Jay," Trace rooted me on, pumping his fist into the air as I stumbled out of the bedroom and into the wide hallway. Smoke followed me out into the light, and I blew a rasberry, the trail of mist amusing me for no apparent reason. I waved it away with my hands and exhaled contently. Waiting for the walls to quit shaking, I continued on my journey downstairs where the music was.

Immediatley, I was bombarded by blondes, bumped by brunettes, and rioted by red-heads. There were girls all around, and they couldn't keep their hands off me. It was sort of sickening at first, but as the music kept playing and everyone kept watching me, I got into the mood. Dancing with three, four, and sometimes five girls at the same time. It was a pretty good feeling. Then the thoughts from earlier rushed back into my head like a train.

I'm gay!

No, I'm not.

I looked down fearfully at the girl with her ass in my crotch to see if she thought I was gay. I guess she didn't, she was concentrating too hard on making me hard. I thought twice about asking her, but then decided against it.

I'm not gay. Look at me. I'm in the middle of a freak train with nine girls. The girls are touching each other and licking their lips at me. It's turning me on. Life is good and non-gay.

I don't know if it was the weed, or the vibrating bumps in the music hitting my the right way, but something narrowed my glance to him. He was right there. And was even sexier than I could remember.

All moving objects ceased, and it was just him and me. Of course, he was across the room, but all the faces became faceless, all the dancing became motionless, and it was just him and me. My heart beat slowed as I watched him, cascaded his body with my stare. He threw his head back, his pink, pouty, and swollen lips opened wide in a toothy grin and he ran his thick, oh-so-long fingers through the glossy, brown curls that mopped his head. Oh, those curls. My breathing almost came to a complete stop when he raised his arms high above his head, the bronze skin glistening in perspiration as he danced with a woman that I could not see. He maneuvered his long torso behind her, his eyes closing slowly with such determination as he grinded, not caring who saw this raunchy behavior.

Then, a weight fell on my lungs, squeezing the rest of the air I had left out of my trembling body. My scalp squeezed against my skull and I cried out in the irony of it all. It was a pleasurable type pain and the sudden outbreak of pleasure vibes spread all across my body, high-voltage. Moving away from the girls casually, I felt a sticky substance cling to my boxers, and I had to have him, right then and there. Even if it were in front of everyone. I didn't care.

Pushing past the crowd, my eyes locked on their target: JC. He was fucking with me, and if he didn't know it then, I was going to make him know it now. I stormed across the dance floor and JC was now within feet. The tempo of the song changed to a groovier, groping type beat, the kind of beat that made you want to get naked and slap bodies. I groaned at the thought and continued towards JC. I panicked as he turned away from me, not even noticing me, or so it seemed...

He whispered something in the ear of the woman he had been dancing with as if he were excusing himself and spun on his heels to walk the other way, opposite from me. I slowed my pace and watched as he disappeared into the crowd near the bottom of the grand staircase that led up to guest bedrooms. I was nearly blinded by the immense chandelier that hovered over all the dancing people as my eyes looked up towards the steps. There he was. He was walking up the stairs ever so swiftly, taking two at a time, and stopped at the top.

There was no way I could've prepared myself for what he would do next.

I leaned against a pillar in the middle of the floor and waited to see what he would do. Would he continue walking? Would he sit and watch the crowds? What, what, what? Oh no, he did neither. Instead he turned torturously slow, catching my stare from across the house, and beckoned me maliciously with his index finger. Even from so far away, I caught the sensual playfullness in his cast, and my eyes nearly fell out of my sockets when he continued to beckon me before finally walking forward again, disappearing into the upstairs hallway. I picked my jaw up from the floor, figuritively speaking, and loosened my shirt collar. Oh boy, it was getting hot in there. Finally, I continued to walk forward, politely pushing through the dancing guests and to the foot of the stairs. JC was no where in sight, and I debated with myself on going up there to find him. What if he was playing a cruel joke, or even worse, beckoning someone besides me? At that thought, I narrowed my eyes at the suspect, the same woman he was dancing with, as she joined me at the foot of the stairs. She smiled genuwinely at me, but I took it as a challenge. I exhaled through my nostrils and popped my neck before darting up the steps, with the slut in tow. He's mine!

I made it to the top first and was alarmed to see her turn to the right, into the bathroom door. She closed it behind her and I scratched my head. Okay, so she wasn't after him. Shrugging it off, I wondered down the upstairs hallway and gawked at the large, wooden doors that reached all the way to the ceiling, room after room that I passed. There was one door that caught my attention since it was slightly ajar, and I took a deep breath before pushing it open slowly. Peering inside, I saw nothing but the candle-lit window sills and black, satin sheets of a large, king-sized matress bed. Curiosity getting the best of me, I walked further in, shutting the door behind me. Every corner in the room was darker than midnight, and it made me shudder.

Well, JC wasn't in here, but he was definitely in my mind. The memory of his sexy finger beckoning me was still fresh in my mind, along with other naughty thoughts. Running a hand over my drooping eyes, I collapsed onto the silk sheets, exhaling loudly in exhaust. I was so drained, physically and mentally, and I felt sleep coming soon. Turning twenty-one was more work than I expected.

After a few seconds of rest, I heard the grandfather clock from across the room make a loud 'click', signaling the turn of another hour. Reading the two hands, I came to the conclusion that it was already three in the morning. I propped myself onto my elbows, sitting up slightly as one of the candles on the window sill died out. For some strange reason, this aroused me more than I thought a candle could. I didn't know if getting so hard so quickly was a good thing or a bad thing, but at that moment it didn't make a difference. Tired of supressing the reappearing urges, I unbuckled my black leather belt and pulled down my copper zipper. Pushing the elastic of my boxers far down, I sighed in relief as my erection sprung free, a bit rough from the last climax I performed on my own while dancing and watching JC. Nonetheless, it was getting longer before my eyes, swelling and the folds of skin disappeared into veiny bulges. I attempted to grab it, but missed it, causing it to lean to the side as the tip oozed with a pasty treat.

Finally, my eyes focused long enough for me to grab my dick with one hand, and I felt it pulsate from beneath my grasp. I groaned at my own touch, so happy to be alone. Hell, I might as well get comfortable. I gently let go, promising to return the grip once I was naked. The shirt came off, my shoes were kicked away, and my pants came down. My fiery, naked skin sizzled against the cool of the satin I lyed upon, and grabbed the nearest silk, feather pillow next to my head. I pushed it between my thighs and began to stroke my member as the under side rubbed against the nice, nice pillow. I caught sight of my stomach muscles as they contracted, desperately trying to control the flow, and the fitness of my abs turned me on even more. I felt the side of my palm that stroked my dick touch the slick, curly hair above my manhood as I pumped harder, putting my hips into it. Before long, I was ready to let go. It couldn't have been more beautiful. My hollow, exotic whispers and loud, whimpering cries mixed with the wet sighs and throaty groans of the stranger across the room were in perfect sync, and it was almost time...

Wait--the cries of the stranger across the room?

My hand immediately dropped my meat and I sat up straight, squinting my eyes to see who had joined me in the room. My heart pounding in my throat, I reached across the bed to the night stand to switch on the lamp, and when the light poured across the floor, I saw him. In all his glory. Jacking off in the once dark corner.

"Jesus Christ, JC! What are you doing in here?"

He didn't answer me. He really didn't even have to. His actions said it all. He had obviously been watching me, and enjoyed it. He sat in a dark, auburn, red rocking chair with his pants around his ankles and his boxers stretching at his knees. He had one hand locked around his throbbing erection that was pointed straight at me, and the other hand had reached further between his thighs, no doubt fondling the globes beneath his shaft. "Mmmm..."

Fuck me! He's so beautiful...

"Mmm...Justin, don't stop..."

I watched in horror as he continued to pump his slick, massive cock between his bony fingers and moan my name as if I was doing something to him. As if my own self-love was fufilling a fantasy of his. I couldn't help it, just the site of his wincing facial features and his jaw that jutted in a sexual despiration made me leap from the bed and nearly crawl all the way to him on my hands and knees. I grabbed ahold of his boxers, yanked them down fully, and ripped his pants along with them off his legs. He was barefoot already, so that wasn't a problem. He never stopped stroking, but he finally opened his piercing, electric blue eyes long enough to catch me in his stare. I reached up and pulled the sleevless shirt off his body, exposing his stomach that was as hard and defined as my own. Running my hands over his nipples, then his lower stomach, I finally reached the top of his thighs, and looked into his eyes for the consent.

Without a word, he finally let go of his dick, a red handprint replacing his own hand, and grasped the arms of the rocking chair as he let me get to work. I had never done this before, but I was determined to learn for him. I grabbed ahold of his cock and lowered my head onto it, rubbing my cheeks around it, inhaling his fresh scent, and wetting my lips to get ready. He grunted, obviously growing impatient, so I took this as a sign. Without anymore warning, I opened my mouth, and inserted the head between my lips. It was coated with pre-cum, and it felt like yogurt between the bottom row of my teeth and tongue. Swirling it around to my advantage, I began to take more of him in, locking my jaw and creating a vaccum with my clamped teeth. Inhaling through my nose, I began to suck.

"Fuck yeah," I heard him approve of my behavior, and he began to pound his head against the back of the chair to the same speed of my bobbing head. Sooner then I expected, I felt it jerk around in my mouth, and I pulled it out of my mouth and stared at it as if curious to see how it looked when it erupted. "No," JC disagreed, pushing my head back on him. "Keep it in there."

I complied, and indeed felt his climax squirt periodically, smacking the back of my throat and I swallowed it's bitter taste against my will. Hah, never doing that again.

"Let's make a man out of you," JC growled and yanked my arm so that we both stood naked in front of each other. For those few minutes that I gave him head, I forgot I had a dick. And now it was pointing straight up at JC as if accusing him of a crime. Roughly, JC pressed his body against mine, and my erection crawled up his leg to his lower abdomen, and he seemed to like the feeling of it since he was grinning uncontrollably. Finally, I felt the bed hit the back of my knees, and sat down. Not too long after, JC was on his knees, flicking my dick back and forth and sighing dreamily at it as if he were in love with it. My mind was orgasming before I got a chance to, but thankfully JC went to work before I had to face rape him.

See, anyone would probably tell you that a guy giving you head really didn't feel any different from a girl doing it to you, but Jesus were they wrong. Or maybe there was just a difference between how anyone else gave head, and how JC gave head. I didn't even have a chance to blink before I began to buck my hips wildly like I was riding a mechanic bull.

"Whoa-oa-oa!" I hollered, the springs from beneath my weight creaking simutaneously as I was being sucked. The sheets were gathering under my grasp, but it still wasn't enough hold, so I began to slip. Desperately, I grabbed JC's hair, the thick and damp waves bunching between my fingers gave me a new wave a pleasure that rocked my body as JC continued. It was about that time, and I was ready. So was he. He moaned my name against my dick, slapping his tongue against the base, pushing it between the sides of his mouth, scraping his teeth lightly over the veins, and the room turned from purple, to red, to black, and to purple again as I came, my loud cries muffled from JC's wet hand that covered my mouth lovingly. He continued to hoover vaccum me, even after I became limp, and finally released me after my screams subsided.

He pounced on top of me, grinding his crotch against mine, then lowered his face to my lips. He studied them for a moment before his tongue escaped, licking my lower lip so lightly that it tickled. I captured his slick, cum-stained tongue with my teeth, then began to suck on it like I had performed on his dick not too long ago. He got excited as I did this, and he pushed his self into me harder and faster.

"That's right, fuck me, fuck me," I chanted. I knew I sounded like a little bitch, but I really couldn't help it at that time. He pumped against me harder, and I could hear his balls slapping against mine, adding more erotic pleasure to the beating he was giving me. Before I knew it, we came again, at the same time, and it stained our stomachs. Stuck together, we rolled around in the sheets before finally getting comfortable enough to pass out from our sexual intoxication.

* * *

I yawned and pulled the sunglasses over my puffy eyes. It was four in the afternoon and Joey, Lance, Chris, JC, and I were finally dressed and heading out to the limos to go home. I woke up that morning and of course, JC wasn't by my side. The bed on the side he fell asleep on was so neatly made and my crotch was still sticky with my own cum that I wouldn't have been able to tell that he was there in the first place if it weren't for single rose and note on the night stand that he had left there before he left. I pulled it out of my pocket and hid behind the open trunk-door as our chaueffer placed our bags in the car and read the note to myself for the fourtieth time thay day.

"Happy birthday. Now you know what it's like to party with the big boys.

Your best friend, JC."

I pushed the note back into my pocket just as Lance came around the limo and opened the door for me.

"So, you figure out whatever the hell was wrong with you last night?" he yawned the question, looking as if he were only half-interested.

I took a moment to answer and watched JC with a smirk on my face as he leaned over to climb into the limo. He flashed me a toothy grin before disappearing into the backseat. Clearing my throat, I looked at Lance. "Yeah. Guess it was just some birthday jitters."

"Aww," Lance rolled his eyes. "So you're not gay?"

"Nope," my smile was a mile wide.

Of course I'm not gay! I mean afterall--it's not like we had sex or anything...

The End

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